


Fearless

by orphan_account



Category: Toontown Online, Toontown Rewritten - Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Humor, Gen, Suspense, fight me yall, i don't really know honestly, i literally take lore from every toontown server, i'd do character tags but that's like cogs and some ocs, just some good ol' shittaki mushrooms, nothing and everything is canon, oh this is pretty much an au kinda, teen and up rating is like. violence and language, there's no F bombs tho i promise, yall probably arent even reading these bye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-28 23:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11428929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Be strong, be fearless, be beautiful. Believe that anything is possible when you have the right people there to support you." When sixteen-year-old Bubbles Sparklenerd loses her younger sisters in a sudden Sellbot invasion, it feels as if her world came crashing down. With her faith in Toon HQ wavering, she and her friends decide to take matters into their own hands.





	1. Prologue

We were under the impression that it would be safe.

Because, y'know, that's how Toons are. We assume everything's okay. Everything is _always_  okay, and why wouldn't they be now? In the three years that the annual End of Summer Festival had taken place, it was always safe.

HQ and their teams of Resistance members always managed to clear out the streets of Daisy's Gardens for the occasion—you wouldn't see a single Cog in sight, not even on Oak Street, with the gloomy arches of Sellbot Headquarters looming down on the vibrant pinks, greens, and yellows of the gardens.

Even  _if_  (and that was a big if) a Cog  _somehow_  managed to slip through the cracks, some brave, valiant Resistance Officer would swoop in and take the imposing threat down with one swift cream pie to the face. Easy peasy, and everyone would continue with the festivities.

But, this year, it was somehow different. Something was . . . off.

It seemed like the officers were more relaxed this time around, at least in my recent memory—because, again, it hadn't happened before, why would it happen this time?—they were hardly at their posts this year, and could easily be spotted throughout the crowd in their varying purple or yellow outfits, golden badges shining like the stars they were shaped after.

Because the officers should get to enjoy the festival, too, right? The food, the games, the fun—they were still Toons, just like the rest of us. They couldn't resist.

These factors (and more) were likely the reason why no one saw it coming.

". . . the number of missing Toons continue to rise as weary families report to Headquarters . . ." The channel cut off. Static. The signal always became sucky when they did large-scale lockdowns for invasions. Even more so if you lived in Donald's Docks, like my family did.

After a moment, the news channel slowly flickered back to life.

". . . among the currently twenty-five missing Toons missing in the Sellbot invasion are eleven-year-olds Peppermint and Periwinkle Sparklenerd, the twin daughters of esteemed award-winning actress, Mayflower Sparklenerd . . ."

The television suddenly flickered off.

My stomach twisted into knots at the uneasy silence—my family knew this feeling all too well.

A sniffle, then another, until my mother finally broke down into loud, heart-wrenching sobs.

"They . . ." my brother, Suds, had an arm wrapped around our mother, ungloved fingers running through her bright white curls. "They'll find them, Ma. If it was the Sellbots, they gotta be in their HQ, right? They'll find them . . ."

He didn't sound very convinced by himself—and neither did our mother. She only sobbed harder, clinging onto her oldest child like her life depended on it.

I chewed on my tongue. I was never very good at comforting people.

I sighed as I pushed myself off the sea green couch, excusing myself from the living room and retreating to the sanctity of my bedroom. Once I slipped through the doorway, a gentle hand gripped my arm.

"Hey." Laced with his New York accent, Pond spoke softly, gently. He knew I didn't feel like talking about it, but he was going to try to get me to talk anyways.

"Are you . . . doin' okay? How is everyone . . ."

He glanced down at me with worried eyes, his mouth curved into a frown.

"We're . . . something. I guess that's how I'll put it."

I weakly tapped his shoulder with my knuckles while forcing the tiniest hint of a smile, in an effort to reassure him.

"Shouldn't you go see if your family's doing okay? They haven't seen you since we left for the festival yesterday, and they're probably worried sick . . ."

Pond flared his nostrils—he knew I was just trying to change the subject. He let out a soft sigh before resting his hands on my shoulders, tilting his head to one side; allowing his periwinkle locks to flop to that side.

"They know I'm with you. Mom rang to make sure I and you guys were okay. That whole group a' sailors is doin' fine. They all made it back here."

"What about our friends? I know Sky's alright, but what about Silver? Bright? Coconut?"

"I don't think Silver even came to the festival. He told me his mom wasn't doin' too well," he brushed his fingers through his hair.

"I'm pretty sure Bright got away with Sky, and Coconut's big brother came to get her. I'm sure they're all alright."

"Well, at least there's  _some_  good news . . ."

He gripped my shoulders tightly.

"You know it wasn't your fault." He whispered, barely audible. "There was nothing we could do."

The words burned through my brain like a match.

_It wasn't your fault._

I stared off to the side.

_There was nothing we could do._

"Bubbles." I knew he was expecting a response.

". . . I-I know."

"You don't believe it, though. Do you?"

I sighed.

"It's been a long day, Pond . . . let's drop the subject for tonight. Please." I frowned as I pushed him aside, making way for my bed before faceplanting into it with a firm  _plop_ , the soft, colorful mattress squishing between my weight.

I rolled onto my back.

"Let's just wait for the troopers to sort this stupid invasion out, then we'll talk about it, I guess."

Pond let out a defeated huff before nodding with complete reluctance.

"Whatever you say, Bubsy."


	2. Oceanside Blues

About a week after the Sellbots invaded, the Toon Council finally declared it safe enough for Toons to leave their estates. There were still Sellbots wandering about, but not nearly enough to be considered a "threat" to the general populace.

There was a sense of dread in the air that wafted throughout the town—it seemed as if every Toon in Toontown were grieving the now thirty missing Toons that were lost during the invasion.

Someone's friend, someone's parent, someone's child . . . my younger sisters. It felt as if everyone lost someone dear to them that day.

"You can't keep blamin' this on yourself," Pond mumbled, breaking a good ten minutes of silence between us. I shook my head as I stared down at the ocean beneath us, my legs dangling off the dock as I kicked them slowly.

"I know." I frowned, hunching over more. "That won't stop me from doing it anyways."

"You're sixteen and only have eighty laff. What could you do against four version 2.0 level twelves, Bubbles? What?" I could feel his stare burning into the side of my head; I couldn't look at him. I continued peering down at the murky water.

"I could've tried," I hesitated for a moment, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth.

I could've tried. I should've tried. Anything would've been better than watching helplessly as my eleven-year-old sisters were taken from me.

". . . I could've had a chance."

"A chance at getting yourself hurt," I heard the anger rising in his voice, a rare occurrence. "You and I both know that if you threw yourself into battle, you'd only end up goin' sad and end up missin' just like your sisters and the other twenty-eight Toons with 'em."

I sighed through my nose. He was right, he always was, even if I hated to admit it.

"Whatever. Let's just . . . get going. Everyone's probably at lunch already. We should catch up." I pushed myself back up onto the dock before getting up and walking away. I heard the faint footsteps of Pond getting up and following me.

As much as I wanted to isolate myself from the world and wallow in my depression, Pond and our other friends refused me the luxury. One of our friends, Sky, suggested that the six of us go out for lunch at some local seafood place in Donald's Dock, somewhere on Lighthouse Lane.

 _You should come,_ she said. _It'll be good for you,_ she said. _It'll be fun,_ she said.

I rolled my eyes.

"I think it's around the corner here," Pond hummed, his arms rested behind his head, looking entirely at ease.

I huffed. "Okay."

I suddenly felt his hand grabbing mine before speeding along, dragging me down the wooden sidewalk until we reached the restaurant. I was walking too slow for him, I guess.

"You're so impatient . . ." He only smiled at me in response.

We stepped into the restaurant and looked around, spotting an eager Sky pushing herself up on the edge of the table and waving to us, accompanied by our friends Bright, Silver, and Coconut. Sky was almost four years older than me, but I knew her like I would my own sister. Her mother used to work with my father, a few years back.

I made my way over to the table the three of them were seated at and plopped myself down in the nearest empty chair, sinking down into it. Pond sat in the chair next to me.

"Sorry for being late," I murmured, slowly lifting the menu in front of me and glancing at it.

"We got caught up talkin'," Pond yawned.

"Oh, so you two finally hooked up and made out? It took you, like, forever," Sky sneered, a shit-eating grin plastered across her face. "It's about time!"

"Sky, how vulgar—and my boyfriend is sittin' right here, too! How could you!" Pond's words were soaked in a heavy dose of sarcasm as he threw an arm around Silver's shoulder in the most overdramatic way possible. Silver huffed, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks. They had been dating for a few months now—a bit of an unlikely pair, but a cute one nonetheless.

"Yeah, what he said," I sighed, rolling my eyes before returning my attention to the menu in my hands. "Got any more _hilarious_ jokes?"

"Not yet. I'm still warming up, Bubsy." That evil grin still hadn't left her face as she plopped herself back into her seat.

"Right." I set my menu back down. "Anyway, how are you all doing . . .?" I knew if I didn't at least try to initiate a conversation, everyone would force me into one.

"We 'ave been doing fine," Silver replied. He was a soft-spoken boy; his words were laced with accents from his native language—French. "How are you feeling, mon amie?"

I sighed. "Could be better, could be worse. Not much worse, though."

I honestly doubted it could get much worse than it already was now.

"And what's 'much worse' t' ya, huh?" Coconut had a thick southern accent, almost like it came straight out of a movie. She was fixing her bubblegum pink curls, compact mirror in hand.

"I don't know. Dying, maybe." I picked my menu back up; it was almost becoming a rhythm. Up, down, up, down.

"That couldn't be much worse."

"I mean, relatable, but stop that," Bright mumbled. She was playing with her fork, swirling it in a small circle on the table; her inky black bangs hanging over her eyes.

"Whatcha mean 'relatable?'" Sky threw her arms around Bright's shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug and nearly smothering her. The poor girl turned redder than a tomato. "Everyone's so down today . . ."

"Well, it's not like some huge frickin' Sellbot invasion _just_ passed, or anything," I frowned, gripping my menu tighter. I was beginning to lose my appetite.

"Bubbles . . ." Pond sighed, resting a hand on my shoulder. "It'll be okay."

It wouldn't be okay, it never would be. My baby sisters were gone, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I huffed through my nose, slamming my menu back down on the table.

"I'm not hungry anymore." I pressed my fingers to my forehead before pushing myself out of my seat. "I'm gonna go for a walk."

"I'm not really hungry either . . . I'll come with you . . ." Bright spoke, quietly, before turning to Sky.

"I'll be home later . . . leave the light on if it gets dark, okay?"

Sky pouted a bit. "Alright, Brightlight."

I sighed again, glancing at Pond.

"I'll catch up with you and everyone else later."

"Okay . . . stay safe, Bubsy." He frowned a bit. I think, at this point, he knew we were both better off if he didn't fight me on it—not right now.

I turned away and exited the restaurant with Bright following quietly behind me.

The two of us walked in silence for a few, long minutes. Bright seemed to be in no better of a mood than I was, but both of our moods seemed rather fitting of the gloomy skies of Donald's Dock, and that of the rest of Toontown nowadays.

It felt like something inside of me had crumpled and fell apart a week ago, and I wasn't sure if I could put that something back together. Losing my sisters . . . loss was a feeling my family was sadly familiar with, but that didn't make us any the wiser or made it hurt any less when we would suffer a blow like this.

We reached the fishing pond after some time, and we took turns kicking pebbles across the freshwater.

"So . . ." I mumbled, breaking the silence. "What's got you down? You seem pretty upset."

She sighed, slouching over more. "You know . . . growing pains."

"Oh . . . I see."

"Yeah . . ." She kicked another rock hard enough that it flew across the small pond entirely.

"I accept me being . . . gay, and all—and I knew my family would disown me on the spot—but it still hurts . . ."

"I mean, yeah . . . of course it still hurts . . . I'd be pretty damn upset if my family disowned me, too." I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jean shorts, glancing at her from the corner of my eyes. "But, hey . . . we're your family, too. Me, Pond, Sky, Silver, and Coconut. All of us. And we'll always accept you.

"Of course, yeah . . . I just . . . feel empty." She hung her head lower. She was kicking at the dirt now, drawing shapes in the soil with the toe of her sneaker.

"They shouldn't make you feel that way . . . who cares what they think? If they can't love you unconditionally, like a family is supposed to do, then they're not your family. Who cares if they're blood or not."

Bright stared down at the dirt before letting out a heavy sigh as she played with her fingers.

"I don't think it's really about them disowning me . . . we argued all the time, you know? I always simply went on and ignored their rants . . . but, now, I've like, removed a huge chunk of what I knew and understood from my life." She looked at me, tears welling up in her maroon eyes.

"It's not that I miss them, Bubs. I've just lost . . . so much."

I stared off to the side. I knew it wasn't easy to have your world flipped upside down in the blink of an eye, but such seemed to be the cruel reality of life.

"I understand . . ." I frowned, hesitating a moment. "But . . . it opens the door for new experiences . . . new things to replace what you've lost . . . or to at least ease the pain of that loss."

She began wiping her tears away with a single finger. "I guess . . ."

"But, hey . . . you're free to grieve what you've lost. Just don't forget what you still have, and everything you have to gain . . ." I flashed her a weak smile. "Everything will work out just fine for you, I promise."

Bright only nodded at me in response. I let out a wistful sigh, stepping towards her and beginning to push up the corners of her mouth into a smile with my index fingers. Her eyes widened a bit as she stared at me.

"I miss the happy you . . . the evil memester . . . I know she's in there . . . _somewheeere_ . . ." I hummed.

"I'm like, gay now, Bubbles," she whined, talking with my fingers. "I might like, fall in love with you, or something. Stop it."

I smiled. "I mean, I'm kinda lame. I don't see why you would."

"You're helping me heal and you're _siiingle._ "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I still suck." I chuckled. "But, hey, whatever helps you feel better."

"At least I feel a bit better . . . thank you." She bowed to me—an act of respect in her native country.

"Of course."

"Now . . . what about you? You're still really upset, everyone can tell . . ." Bright frowned.

"I—I mean, yeah . . . I guess." I sighed, folding my arms across my chest. I wasn't necessarily trying to hide my mood from everyone; even if I did, they would know better, anyway.

"It just—it just really frickin' sucks, you know? The festival was supposed to be the happiest part of the summertime in town, and that was entirely ruined and thrown out the window. And losing my youngest sisters during it all, too?"

I shook my head, shutting my eyes tight. I remembered it all like a bad memory, a recurring nightmare. My sisters, Peppermint and Periwinkle, surrounded by level twelve, version 2.0 Mr. Hollywoods. They were on the other side of the chaos, I couldn't get to them in time, I wouldn't have gotten to them in time. I just watched helplessly as they went sad and were swooped up by these Cogs, these Cogs at least double their size.

It tore me up inside.

". . . I just can't get it out of my head." I brushed my bangs from my eyes.

". . . it reminds you of your dad, too, huh?" Bright whispered, staring at me with concern.

". . . I guess so." I kicked at the dirt hard enough that some tufts of grass came flying loose. "And, you know what else? It's been only a week, and HQ has 'officially' decided it was the Sellbots' doing or some bullshit— _as if it weren't already obviously their doing_ —and they're already starting to say they're not sure if there's anything to do about it. It's literally losing my frickin' dad all over again, me and Ma and the rest of my already falling apart family just has to smile and nod while HQ does jack _shit._ "

She went silent, chewing at her lip for a moment.

"Why don't you do something about it, then?"

"What can I do? Am I, a sixteen-year-old, eighty laff Toon, gonna march up to Sellbot HQ, knock on the doors, and be like, 'hi, uh, yeah, can you give me back my little sisters, and those twenty-eight other Toons too, maybe?'" I pressed my hand to my forehead. "They'd probably laugh at me 'til their gears came loose, then beat me up."

"I mean . . . it's not like you'd be going alone." A wry smile spread across Bright's lips. "I'm free for like, the rest of forever, I have your back. And I'm sure we could talk the others into a little adventure."

I rubbed my eyes with my hands before inhaling deeply.

"So, Bright, what you're telling me . . . is you, me, and everyone else, should storm Sellbot HQ? A bunch of teenagers . . . fighting the entirety of Sellbot HQ?" I exhaled.

"Yes . . . that's exactly what I'm saying."

"That is . . . an extremely dangerous idea."

"I mean, why not? Like you said, HQ isn't doing anything about it, so, why don't you?"

I stared at her for a solid thirty seconds before shutting my eyes.

Only official resistance members have actually been inside the Cog HQs, let alone fought any of the Cogs inside of them. Teenagers like me? Unheard of.

I've fought Cogs before, but never actively—normal Toontown citizens aren't expected to. Only resistance members, like Toon Troopers. I've only ever fought them in self-defense, and when I was younger, my father would teach me different gag strategies and ways to defend myself if a Cog were to attack me. But even those little lessons were just with cheap wooden dummies. Not . . . actual Cogs.

Wow, Pond had a point when he said I had no chance against four version 2.0 level twelves . . . even though I'm not going to tell him that.

But, despite how dangerous, reckless, foolish, and probably illegal it would be to charge into Sellbot HQ with only a group of six teenagers . . . Bright had a point.

HQ wasn't doing anything about it, why shouldn't I?

"I'll think about it."

"Well, let me know, then, Sparklenerd. I don't have any plans any time soon."

"Yeah, yeah . . ." I trailed off.

"Well, I'm going to walk alone for a while before heading home. You gonna catch back up with the others . . .?"

"Maybe . . . it's not like I have anything better to do, though." Other than possibly plan the most dangerous decision I could ever make in my entire existence, anyways.

"I'll see you later, then, Bubsy." Bright smiled a little before turning from me and walking off.

I stared down into the water of the fishing pond, eyeing my reflection as the water rippled slowly.

Was I _actually_ considering storming Sellbot HQ? Yes, yes, I was.

The real question would fall in if I could even pull the endeavor off. If I could convince my friends into coming with me—they all had their own lives, too. How I would get away with trying to do this without my family finding out? There was even the real possibility that my sisters and these other missing Toons weren't even in Sellbot HQ; then the whole thing would be for literally nothing.

I kicked another rock into the water.

But, was I up for an adventure? . . . yes, yes, I was.


	3. Determined

The rest of the day came and left without much excitement, the next day being as uneventful and dreary as the last; which could be concerning, considering Toontown standards.

The wickedly reckless idea of storming Sellbot HQ with six inexperienced, punk ass teenagers still rested in the back of my mind. I wasn’t sure if I would _actually_ follow through, but I did know that I was still figuring out a plan either way on how we would get there, and when we would leave.

What we’d do when we got there . . .? Well, that part I hadn’t quite figured out, but it was in the works. Probably.

I laid in my bed in silence, the room dimly lit by the red and purple lava lamp on my nightstand. I stared at my pastel purple ceiling, my eyes trailing the faint green glow-in-the-dark stickies I had stuck to it some years ago.

I sighed. There were so many things that could go wrong with this crackpot idea to sneak into Sellbot HQ, I’d essentially be throwing myself and my friends into harm’s way, and none of us have ever actively fought Cogs. Like, ever.

I grabbed my rainbow-colored stress ball and threw it at my closet door; it bounced off and rolled along the floor before stopping at the foot of my bed.

Thinking on it, maybe part of the reason why average Toons were so susceptible to Cog invasions and kidnappings was because most of us aren’t taught how to defend ourselves against a Cog attack if we happened to end up in the situation. We train our gags and bring up our laff, but there were plenty of Toons who never got their laff out of its twenties purely because they either didn’t need to, or didn’t want to.

“Bubbles?” I sat up and looked to my doorway; my mother was standing in it, brushing her fingers through her pearly white locks. She was a shorter woman, her height being accentuated by her curvier body and short, curly hair. She was well into her forties, but didn’t look a day over twenty-five.

“Yes, Ma?”

“I just wanted to see how you were doing, sweetheart . . .” She flashed a weak smile before making her way over to my bed and sitting by my feet. She looked tired—there were bags under her eyes, and her eyes were still red from crying. She clearly hadn’t gotten a good night’s rest since the invasion, and I really couldn’t blame her, either.

“I’m alright, I guess . . .” I draped my arms over my knees. “How are you feeling, Ma?”

“I’m feeling a bit better . . .” She gripped one of my hands, squeezing it.

“I’ve been trying to avoid paparazzi and reporters as much as possible.”

“Big sunglasses, large sunhats, and everything?”

“Mhm.”

Sometimes, I forgot my mother was an esteemed actress—my family always lived a rather reclusive life and stayed as much out of the limelight as possible. We’d go to events like her movie premieres, award shows, or galas—all that fancy stuff—but we didn’t live in a multi-million jellybean estate, or anything. We weren’t extravagant or wasteful, but we still lived very comfortably.

“That’s good . . .” I squeezed her hand, forcing a small smile. “You know you can always send one of us to run errands for you and stuff, if you don’t want to deal with people.”

“I know . . .” She sighed, tracing small circles along the side of my hand with her thumb. “I just need to stay strong, is all . . . there’s no need for any of you to have to run my errands.”

“I know, Ma. I’m just saying . . . we want to take care of you, too.”

“Thank you, honey.” A weak smile spread across her lips as she gently patted my hand. “You’re all growing up so fast . . . I just can’t keep up.”

“Oh, come on, don’t act like we’re going to ship you off to a retirement home anytime soon,” I leaned over, tilting my head a bit so I could see her face. “Besides, everyone knows the spectacular Mrs. Mayflower Sparklenerd isn’t a day over twenty-five.”

She chuckled a bit before sniffling. “I guess so . . .”

“I’m just glad you’re doing okay, sweetie. Do you need anything?”

“No . . . do you?”

“I’m fine . . .” The doorbell rang, it caught her attention immediately. She stared out of my bedroom door and down the hall. “I wonder who it is . . .”

She patted my hand again before getting up and heading for the living room. I hopped out of bed and quietly trailed behind her, stopping at the archway into the living room and peering around the corner. We didn’t get visitors often—if it were Pond, he would knock on my window, and if it were paparazzi or a reporter, they’d be climbing through a window.

She opened the door.

“Oh, Rosie, it’s so good to see you!” She sounded relieved, her hand still gripping the doorknob.

“How are you holdin’ up, sweetpea?” Miss Rosie was an older woman and an old family friend of my parents. She had a bit of a southern twang to her voice and an almost grandmotherly feel to her personality, despite not being that far into her fifties. She was technically the head of every Toon HQ in Toontown, and one of the leaders of the Resistance alongside other prominent Toons such as Lord Lowden Clear and Good Ol’ Gil Giggles. She acted as the bridge between Toon HQ and Toon Council, often advising what steps and acts should be taken during wartime and crisis periods, such as last week’s Sellbot invasion.

“Not too bad . . .” Mom sighed. “Oh, come in, take a seat.” Miss Rosie stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.

“How are the kids doing?” She sat down on the couch, folding her legs. My mother took a seat next to her.

“They seem to be okay . . . I can’t always tell, honestly.” She twiddled her thumbs. “Why the sudden visit, though?”

“Well . . . I came to let you know of the situation regarding your daughters.” Miss Rosie’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper.

“Oh . . . I see . . .”

“You see, we’re positive the Cogs are holding your daughters—along with the other missing Toons, of course—in Sellbot HQ, but not for very long.” The older woman hesitated for a moment as she folded her hands in her lap. “The first issue is we’re not sure how long that is, therefore we have no idea if we can send a Resistance team in before they’re possibly transported to a different Cog HQ.”

“And what’s the other issue . . .?”

“Since your daughters are so young with only their starting gags and laff, we’re not sure what the Cogs would want them for. It couldn’t be for ransom, they have no interest in their currency. It could be that they are aware that they are you and Blake’s children, and therefore could be of some sort of use to them. But, we find it very unlikely they’re going to keep them in Sellbot HQ, as normally only high-laffed Toons are kept there and used as indentured servants, of sorts.”

“O-oh . . .” My mother’s voice cracked. “When’s the soonest you can send in a group . . .?”

“We don’t know.” Miss Rosie rested a hand on my mother’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. “We’re doing all we can, May. We just . . . have to be careful.”

“I—I see . . .” She sniffled, lowering her head before pressing her hands to her face. I retreated from the edge of the doorway and pressed my back against the wall, sliding down it slowly and landing on the floor.

I heard Mom begin to cry. I curled up on the floor, hugging my knees.

It pained me to see my mother like this. She was never a mourning woman, she never had bad days. She took everything in stride, she loved to joke around and play, even if she was on the rowdier side of things—she was simply the type of person you loved to be around.

I had only seen her cry twice in my lifetime; when we found out my father disappeared on a Resistance mission . . . and when she had to report my sisters as missing after the Sellbot invasion.

_We just have to be careful._

This was exactly what they told us when my father went missing, and I couldn’t accept that excuse. Not again. Not at the expense of my mother, not at the expense of my missing sisters. I knew my mom couldn’t handle another loss like this, and once my siblings found out, they’d be absolutely devastated.

I had to do something. If we couldn’t rely on Toon HQ, then I’d just have to take matters into my own hands.

I had to storm Sellbot Headquarters.

I got back on my feet. Dad had an old office in the house; he was the former captain of one of the Donald’s Dreamland HQs, I’m sure had to have some sort of information on the Sellbots in there, somewhere.

I made my way down the hallway, gripping the doorknob of the office door and opening it, stepping in and quietly shutting it behind me. The office was clean—my mom had picked up and dusted some things off after my dad went missing, but this room had been untouched since.

I walked over to the old, black leather rolling chair and sat down, resting my arms on the armrests and rolling back so I could see the drawers. None of them appeared to be locked, but none of them were labeled, either.

I opened the top right drawer and pulled out a handful of files. Most of them were dated from 2002 to 2005, were old cases, or memos to and from Toon Council, or something. I didn’t pay much attention to most of them, I only skimmed just in case there was anything pertaining to the Sellbots.

I returned the pile of files back to the drawer I retrieved them from before opening the next. These files were labeled, thankfully, from A through Z. I grazed a finger over the manila folders before pulling out the subsection labeled S.

In old, faintly scratched ink, the first file was labeled “Sellbot HQ.” Bingo.

I plucked the file from the stack and set it aside before replacing the other S files back into their respective spot.

I took the Sellbot file and got up, walking out of the office and shutting the door behind me.

“Bubbles . . .? What are you up to?” My mother spoke, softly. She was at the end of the hallway, her eyes redder than they were earlier. I glanced down at the manila folder in my hands, tapping my fingers against it nervously.

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Uh . . . nothing. Just kind of . . . reminiscing, I guess.”

“What’s the folder for . . .?”

“Ah . . . um . . . just some . . . old stuff.” I stared at the wall. “Y’know, old drawings or whatever from when I was in kindergarten and stuff that Dad kept.”

“Oh . . . alright, sweetie, just put it back when you’re done . . .” She sighed quietly as she walked into her bedroom and shut the door. I inhaled sharply before letting out a relieved sigh.

I quickly retreated to my bedroom, shutting the door and locking it. I turned my light on before plopping down in the fuzzy yellow beanbag that sat in the middle of my floor, setting the file in my lap.

“Let’s see . . .” I opened the file, trailing my gaze along the pages.

_The Sellbot types include Cold Callers, Telemarketers, Name Droppers, Glad Handers, Mover and Shakers, Two-Faces, The Minglers, and Mr. Hollywoods, then, finally, their leader, the Vice President, or V.P. for short. Sellbot HQ consists of the courtyard, the Sellbot factories, and Sellbot Towers, where the V.P. himself resides._

I bit on the end of my thumb. I guess that sort of basic information was nice n’ all, but I sort of needed a little more than that . . .

I turned the page.

_Sellbots are the most powerful Cogs on the corporate ladder, despite being the lowest “tier” of Cogs. Low leveled Sellbots do a tremendous amount of damage, and higher leveled ones such as Movers and Shakers and The Minglers could easily knock down the laff of a group of Toons if left unchecked._

I gulped. So, on top of us all being a bunch of inexperienced toddlers with weaponized pies, we’d be going up against some of the strongest Cogs around. Great, wonderful, spectacular. Love it.

The next few pages contained detailed information on every Cog type, such as their levels, their health, what their attacks were and what they did. A bit intimidating, yes, but nothing that was going to deter me from following through with my plans. I continued flipping through the pages.

_The V.P. is the weakest of the Cog leaders, a stark contrast to the power of normal Sellbots. He seems to be easily distracted, which can be used to a Toon’s advantage. Throwing a pie into his undercarriage to stun him is the ideal way to fight him, but only if you’re able to get close enough to do so. Approach with caution, he can be unpredictable at times. Knocking him off Sellbot Towers does not destroy him, contrary to belief. The fall does damage him, however. It is currently unknown how to destroy the V.P._

“That doesn’t seem _that_ bad,” I mumbled, still chewing on my thumb.

The next page contained a map of the Sellbot factory, and explanations on the different rooms, what sorts of Sellbots to expect, and any dangers or pitfalls there were to encounter. I pulled the map out of the file and folded it up—carefully to not rip the paper—and slipped it in my pocket for safekeeping.

I closed the file. That seemed to be enough information, for now. I needed to determine what my plan was, and as quickly as possible. Time was not on my side, and if what Miss Rosie said earlier was true, we would need to move fast before they were transported to a different Cog HQ.

I tucked the manila folder under my bed, covering it with some random papers that were already under there. Like old homework I probably didn’t do.

I decided I would meet up with everyone tomorrow and tell them my plans. Or, well, semblance of a plan. I figured we all would come up with a real plan together, if everyone agrees to go, anyways . . .

I got up and laid back down in my bed, sighing softly as I stared at my lava lamp.

I was probably in way over my head, but with my mind made up, there would be no backing out now.


End file.
